A Fair to Remember
by EOlivet
Summary: Mary visits the Downton fair three times after S1.


Disclaimer: The characters described herein are the property of Julian Fellowes and ITV. No copyright infringement is intended.

Timeline: Post S1 through S3 speculation.

* * *

_1915_

The sun was just about to set when Mary finally made her way down to the fairgrounds. Edith had attempted to lift Sybil's spirits (she'd just received another letter, the poor darling) by taking her sister down earlier, but when asked to accompany them, Mary had demurred.

A year ago, she'd just visited for a bit with her sisters, like always. Of course, she'd made a fuss about them dragging her there, and weren't they much too old to enjoy something so silly. One turn around the grounds and she'd immediately prevailed upon Branson to take her back – certainly before it got anywhere close to the end of the day.

Indeed, 1914 now seemed a lifetime away…

"Are you looking forward to the fair tomorrow?" she'd asked Anna the night before.

Anna had nodded. "I am, m'lady." Yet there was something guarded about her tone.

"Anna?" Mary had turned round to try to look Anna in the eye. Perhaps Anna would be more likely to speak if she had to answer Mary, face to face. "What is it?"

For a moment, Anna hadn't responded – one hand gripping the other as if she was attempting to hold herself up. "Only…one hears things, and…it's probably nothing, but…"

"Go on…" Mary encouraged, feeling slightly discomfited at what Anna might potentially have to share.

Taking a deep breath, Anna picked up a hair ribbon and began studiously examining it. "Well, I…I believe Lieutenant Crawley is back in the village on leave."

Mary froze, blinking rapidly – trying vainly not to show the slightest sign of upset. She thought about Matthew every day – so much so that she'd almost forgotten how much she thought about him. Yet she'd not seen him since August. Nine whole months that had felt more like nine years.

She knew he'd had leave before, and had thus far never come up to the house. But he'd seemed to enjoy the fair, from what she remembered, so perhaps…

"M'lady?"

She came back to herself, straightening as she sat at her dressing table – Anna clearly having finished with her for the night.

"Thank you, Anna," she'd said, as Anna had bobbed politely – leaving Mary alone with her thoughts.

The next day, however, that cautious optimism had dissolved into a nervous anticipation – her emotions warring with one another.

She didn't want to see Matthew. She desperately wanted to see Matthew. She had no idea what she'd say to him. She'd run from him. She'd run to him. She'd ignore him entirely…

In the end, all she wanted to do was simply lay eyes on him. She could smile and pretend everything was alright. Yes, she could be civil if he could…

As she drew closer to the grounds, her eyes darted around – surreptitiously searching. He'd be noticeable in his uniform – _his uniform_, she thought. She'd never seen him attired thus. Try as she might, she couldn't picture it. It was not how he lived in her memory.

The fair looked no different from prior years, she supposed. Her father had thought it should be canceled because of the war – but her grandmother had had other ideas. All the more reason to have it, Granny had insisted. To take their minds off what was happening in France. It was an annual Downton tradition, after all.

She peered around a familiar tree, to a familiar booth – still festooned with that gaudy striped overhang and the dark red tent emblazoned with "Coconut Saloon."

Last year, she'd avoided this booth, but she felt the need to pause in front of it this year.

What a ridiculous idea, she tried to tell herself. Knocking coconuts down with balls – whoever heard of such a thing? Who'd even be interested when there was no prize involved…

Suddenly, she recognized the same fellow who'd manned the booth two years ago. Was he there every year? Had he nothing better to do?

"Care to give it a go, m'lady?" he asked, with a friendly smile when he must've noticed her staring.

Her eyes darted around, her heart speeding up. The sun was setting in the distance, the lights of the fair glowing softly above her along with the brightly colored bunting. Blue, red and white. It seemed a bit too enthusiastically nationalistic now – though a quick scan of the grounds revealed no men in uniform, or at least none that she could see.

She shook her head, with a polite smile.

"Perhaps later, then," the man suggested, with a tip of his hat.

Mary said nothing, merely turning and walking back up the familiar path alone. Of course Matthew wouldn't be here, she chastised herself. He had only several days on leave – why should he spend any of them at the stupid fair?

On her way home, she spotted several of the servants heading towards the grounds. William was following Anna and Bates, who were openly gazing at each other. Their arms weren't linked, but they might as well have been.

When they all noticed her, there was a chorus of "m'lady"s, and she dipped her head in acknowledgment. The darkness had settled more heavily over them, and she was glad of the cover it provided.

"Shall we fetch Mr. Branson?" Anna asked, clearly aware how quickly the light seemed to be going.

"Oh, that's not necessary," Mary assured her maid, now feeling quite silly and strangely vulnerable all at once. "I'm sure I can manage on foot."

"Well, _I_ can walk you back, m'lady."

Three pairs of eyes (including Mary's) turned to see William had piped up. "Really, I don't mind," he added, with a smile. "Perhaps Daisy's finished up by now – she…she said she might come down later…"

Mary bowed her head slightly. "That's…very kind, William – thank you."

William silently offered her his arm in a most gentlemanly fashion as they headed up the path. She looked back one final time at the twinkling lights guiding her from the grounds, the sounds of life teeming from the fair behind them and at that moment, she felt more alone than ever.

* * *

_1919_

For the next several years, Mary had avoided the fair. With Sybil and Edith otherwise occupied with other projects, no one had the time nor the inclination to go – which suited her just fine.

Yet her father, who'd been indifferent about it during the war, seemed particularly enthusiastic now the war was over. It should've – and would've – been a joyous occasion, she supposed…were it not for the after effects of Spanish flu still being felt throughout.

She now wondered if the fair was for the benefit of the village or the family this year.

Oddly enough, the timing coincided with one of Richard's visits. He was to be traveling down to London the next day, but happened to checking on the progress of Haxby and had stopped by to call on his fiancée.

"I was just planning on walking down to the fair," she told him, after stiffly offering her cheek for his waiting kiss. "But I'll certainly see you at dinner."

The muscles in his face seemed to be working particularly hard to look interested, though it was nothing more than a valiant effort. "Perhaps _we_ could go after we've had dinner." His smile tried too hard to mask his lack of interest. "We can take my car," he offered, managing to at least sound magnanimous.

"Actually," she heard herself saying. "I'd rather go now, if you don't mind. And I'd prefer to walk."

His smile seemed to grow even tighter as he bit out, "Very well, my dear," now locking her arm firmly through his. At least he knew when he was beaten.

They walked into the village, past the church and the cemetery and Crawley House – where she gripped Richard's arm tightly, as if to anchor herself to him.

Of course, they hadn't seen Matthew for over a month. Isobel had made brief appearances at family gatherings, making excuses for her son – that he wasn't ready, that he just needed a bit more time...

What would she even do if she saw Matthew? It might be too difficult to even nod, smile and feign politeness. Perhaps she'd pretend not to see him at all. After all, he clearly had no desire to see her.

As she and Richard continued down the familiar path, the grounds came into view. Blue, white and red bunting adorned the trees, as always, and the lights glowed softly above. It all seemed so perfectly…normal.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to run, but her arm was seemingly shackled to Richard's – which made that impossible.

His long, exasperated exhale let her know exactly how much patience he had with their destination. Every shout of laughter or note of music seemed to grate on him, and she could see him almost wincing.

"Well…what do we do now?" he asked, seemingly out of boredom more than anything else. Then he turned to her and offered her a smile of mocking enthusiasm. "Play games?"

"That is generally what one does at a fairground," she replied, using superiority as a cover for her frayed nerves.

He sounded as if he was scoffing, "Indeed." Then he waved his hand in the general direction of the fair's corner. "What about that one?"

They'd already started walking when she saw the shock of striped overhang, that blood red background with the odd logo and that peculiar fellow manning the booth, who…almost looked as if he recognized her.

"Oh, I don't think so," she said, a bit too quickly.

"Why not?" Richard pressed her. "It looks easy enough – and I can certainly throw a ball."

"But there's no prize to be won at the end," she improvised, thinking quickly. "Here…" However, attempting to steer him in another direction was as easy as moving a tree. Her eyes darted around – surveying the grounds in spite of herself. "There's a prize for the ring toss. You can toss a ring, can you not?"

"Are you so interested in the prize? I can buy the lot of prizes, if that's what you want."

Now she rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Nobody _buys _prizes at a fair – that's not what it's about!"

At this, he seemed to chuckle with a slight shake of his head. "It isn't? Well clearly, this is one more subject on which I require instruction." His head inclined towards hers as he spoke, firmly but softly: "I suppose I must defer to your…_experience_."

Her arm shifted uncomfortably in his at the very deliberate emphasis he placed on the last word – reminding her exactly why she was there with him in the first place…

"…I think we should delay the wedding."

As her voice rang out quietly amongst the laughter and music, she almost unconsciously tightened her grip around his arm, as if to steady herself.

A glance at his face revealed a sort of…amusement at her words. "I beg your pardon?"

"July is too soon," she stated, boldly – then began looking around the grounds as if searching for evidence to support her claim. "Look around. The flu has clearly taken its toll on the village," she declared, her eyes flitting to the familiar road behind them.

"I fail to see why any of this pertains to us." A sharp hint of impatience had crept into his mostly bored tone.

With a sigh of anxious exasperation, she informed him, "Since the wedding is at Downton, it's important to have as many people present as possible." She paused a moment. "I think autumn would be better. Surely, you can wait a few more months." Mary sounded more confident than she felt, but she set her jaw into a firm line, preparing to defend her position.

His eyes flashed with a momentary sort of upset, before his lips curved upwards. "Certainly, my dear. What's a few more months compared to the lifetime we have ahead of us?"

He seemed to delight in being so difficult to read, and she did her best to hide her surprise. "Indeed. Well…" she continued, plastering on her most tolerant smile. "I believe you were going to win me a prize…"

"Actually… I believe I'm ready to head back." His tone left no room for argument. "Shall we?" he asked, though he was already walking as he spoke, dragging her somewhat willingly along with him.

"Of course," she replied, unnecessarily – looking over her shoulder as they set on back up the path. The striped overhang shone like a beacon under the lights asthe sun set over the fairgrounds.

* * *

_1920_

It was late afternoon when she and Matthew drove into the village – tired and a bit disoriented from their long journey home. This was the first time they'd been back to Downton in a couple weeks – and she was almost startled to realize she'd missed it – the peace of the countryside compared to the far noisier—

She thought she'd heard a vague flurry of activity – of far more people congregating in one place than usual, but had dismissed it until the blue, white and red bunting provided her the visual proof. _Like a reception committee_, she thought, with a knowing smile.

"Well, I hope your mother isn't expecting us," Mary commented, offhandedly. "I'm afraid we're going to have to make a stop."

"Alright." Matthew seemed anxious, but agreeable – scanning the shops, seemingly oblivious to the merriment around them. "Well, I'll just…wait here then…until you're finished."

Her eyebrows raised in mock horror. "You most certainly will not! I'll not miss this again." At his quizzical look, she merely waved her hand. "Just park the car, darling."

Afterwards, her husband helped her out and they walked arm in arm together towards the familiar hustle and bustle in the center of the village. The late afternoon sun still glittered brightly across the grounds, eliminating the need for any other light.

"You've not been to the fair in years," she remarked, uncertainly. "Not when you were on leave, not after...Lavinia…"

He shook his head. "No," he replied, drawing her a bit closer to him, as if the gesture was somehow part of his response. "Have you?"

She was quiet for a moment, as the memories of all prior early evenings – save one - seemed to fade into the sunshine illuminating the familiar path. "Not like this," she answered truthfully. Her eyes then lit upon a familiar striped overhang, with that deep red background and that same fellow, manning the booth year after year.

"Care to give it a go?" the man asked, somehow sounding as enthusiastic as Mary felt.

Her eyes met Matthew's, both having become exceedingly skilled at non-verbal communication together and, nodding, her husband dug some coins out of his pocket. Mary sighed in quiet remembrance of the long ago gesture.

The first time she and Matthew had truly been alone together.

"You know you were quite forward back then," she informed her husband with a teasing smile as the other man handed her the small stack of balls. "Paying for the company of an unmarried woman…in public." Her eyebrows raised in teasing derision.

For a moment, he looked thrown by her accusation. But only for a moment. "Well, it worked, didn't it?" he smirked back at her, now tossing one of the balls ineffectually at the target.

She hurled the first ball in her hand almost in response – barely grazing the bottom of the pedestal. Then turned to him. "I could have paid for myself." A second ball at the target seemed to emphasize her point.

He nodded briefly, his own second toss missing by just as much. "Why do you think I was so keen to do it?"

Turning the last ball over in her hands, she looked up at him with a small, breathless smile. Almost simultaneously, they threw their last balls – his silly sidearm throw diverging from her underhanded toss – both woefully far away from any target.

The fellow at the booth shrugged, as if they'd failed to accomplish something – but Mary merely linked her arm through Matthew's and set back off through the grounds, taking in all the noise and music that felt like…home.

"I wonder why they call it a Coconut _Saloon_," he mused, interrupting her thoughts.

She turned to him without missing a beat. "Sounds like a place one goes to meet unmarried women."

"That's strange." He paused for a moment, as if he was seriously considering the situation. "I don't believe I see any of those around here."

Shrugging her shoulders, she met his eyes almost shyly. "What a pity."

They walked towards their car, bypassing the familiar path in favor of a more circuitous route. The bunting hung over them and the lights shone behind them, but for the first time, Mary had no desire to look back.

The End.


End file.
